


Nothing Else Matters

by Nopennamesleft



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopennamesleft/pseuds/Nopennamesleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean found out he was drinking demon blood, Sam walked out and never came back.  A year has passed and now Dean has to find a way to get Sammy back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello Dean

Nothing Else Matters: Chapter One – Hello Dean

He had assumed that gates would have looked more sinister, dark and bad slasher film-ish. Well, you know what they say about assuming. The gates were shiny, with intertwining swirls of metal. They had freaking flowering vines draping artistically over them. Dean blew out a short huffing breath, “a little girly.” Rolling the window down, he leaned across and pressed the buzzer. “It’s Dean Winchester, I’m here to see you boss.” Seconds later the gates opened and the dark car passed through.  
The gravel crunched under the tires as Dean drove. At the end of a gently sloping hill stood the mansion, white columns and curved mason work gave it a stately, if stuffy appearance. Four men waited at the end, quickly opening the door as Dean came to a stop.

Dean made no attempt to fight back as he was drug from the car and thrown against the short flight of stairs. A swift kick and a hard left to his jaw had him seeing stars. “Damn, you going to make the boss man miss out on all the fun?” Dean spat along with some blood. “Sure he’s gonna be happy about that?”

Four pairs of ebony eyes glared down at Dean. The tallest thrust his chin out. “Take him”. Two demons grabbed him and started for the front door not pausing to allow Dean to regain his footing. Dean scrambled off his knees and shook out of his captures’ grasp. “Jeeves, Alfred, I got it on my own. Just lead the way.”

Dean smirked as the only response was a hard shove to his back that sent him stumbling further down the hall. He was pushed and pulled down a corridor and into a large room. “I’m disappointed. No chains, whips, or dark colors. This room really needs a demon make over. You know, blood, and screams for mercy, a few entrails flung about. This looks like something Martha Stewart would put together, but then I think she is most likely a demon too, so maybe this is right up demon ally.” Dean’s ramble came to an end as the side door opened at the end of the room. The condescendingly named Jeeves and Alfred forced him to his knees, thrusting his head down till it touched the tile below him.

Quiet footsteps paced toward Dean. From the corner of his eye, Dean could make out black shoes and sleek black pants. “I’m betting you’ve got a classy black shirt that matches” Dean smarted off before Jeeves slammed his forehead into the flooring.  
Breath hissed and the two demons flanking Dean stiffened, quickly backing away. Dean pushed himself to his feet, brushing back his hair that he had neglected to cut into its usually military style. He flashed his brilliant smile, though it never reached his eyes.  
“How ya doing Sammy?”


	2. Show Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have a chance to reconnect after being apart for a year. Sam is not the same person Dean remembers. Sam doesn’t care.

“How ya doing Sammy?”

Sam’s face went instantly from a calm, carefree expression to one of rage. “It’s Sam”, he hissed. A single glance to the demons behind Dean had him slammed back to his knees and a rapid barrage of punches and kicks followed until Dean could hardly catch his breath. He stayed down, panting, ribs aching, blood from his busted lip and brow pooling below him. Dean forced himself to one knee and then, hiding the effort it took, to his feet.

“Okay, Samantha, you weren’t always so picky with your nicknames. I can remember when you..”, Dean’s response was shortened by another round of general ass beating. Demons, ya had to respect their attention to detail when it came to beating the shit out of someone. Dean took a quick visual check, nope, no shit yet. He was still good.

By the time his inner mental rumblings stopped and his eyes started tracking again, Sam had taken a seat in a plush office chair to the side of Dean. “Are you finished being a smart ass, Dean?”.

“If I’m the smart one, does that make you the dumb one?”

Once again Jeeves and Alfred moved in but Sam waved them off with a flick of his wrist. “We could be here for days if I let you beat him every time he made a wise crack. Leave me.” Both demons quickly turned and left the room. Sam leaned back in his chair and watched as Dean struggled once again to his feet. Crossing his legs as he stretched out to his full length he asked, “So, have you come here to stop me Dean? Play the conquering hero in a badly written story. Are you here to save me or kill me? Cause, dude, so far you’re doing a half ass job.”

“Sam, you have to stop this. Look around, you’re working for the dark side now. How can you do this?”

Sam’s eyes closed, his crossed ankles rocking back and forth. His voice was even, almost has if he were discussing a case over diner food. “Hmmm, does it really matter Dean? You threw me out. Remember? ‘If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back’. Well, I walked out Dean, and you don’t get to have me back.” Sam’s voice raised, anger and betrayal evident in his tone. “Us! Being brothers, ended the moment those words left your mouth. But now you’re here.” His voice softened, and a look of sadness fluttered briefly across his features. “Dean, Dean, Dean. You shouldn’t have come.”

Same pushed out of his chair and towered over Dean. One hand grasped Dean’s shoulder while Sam’s leg swept his feet from beneath him. Dean crashed backwards to the ground. “Really, shouldn’t have come.” There was just the faintest touch of regret in his voice. Sam flicked his wrist and the two demons were once again flaking Dean. “Find out what he knows. Do what it takes but…”, Sam hesitated, searching for something. He glanced down at Dean, emotions boiled through his gaze before hardening into a cold resolve. “Do whatever it takes.” Sam turned, ignoring Dean’s look of shock, and walked back out the side door.

(and nothing else matters)

Torture on earth is much different from torture in hell. For one thing, if they carve out your still beating heart on earth, you tend to be too dead to realize the true extent of the horror of it all. Another is the smell. Hell smells, but not of fire and brimstone, really how cliché is that? Hell smells of rot and disease; the sour tang of hopelessness and despair; the sick taste of bile that never leaves the back of your throat. Torture on earth just smells of the copper of blood and the stale saltiness of sweat, both old and new.

Dean is in a unique position to be able to compare the two. Life is just shitty that way.

So far nothing is broken. Well, some ribs are cracked and his toes on his left foot aren’t in the best shape but those are just “rough night at the bar” injuries for Dean. His back is a tangle of welts and cuts; some fresh, others healing, and some becoming infected. But the real pain, the true torture is knowing who put him here. His very own Sammy. Dean was awash in waves of guilt (shit, I drove him to this) and anger (I went to hell for that little shit and this is how he repays me) which just adds to his torture.

A true connoisseur of the art surely knows that it is the emotional more than the physical that truly makes the pain flow. Bright rivers of blood are lovely but the anguished cries of a tortured mind are orgasmic.

Dean is also in a unique position to be able to understand that. Dean’s life equals vast amounts of shit. Epic portions of shit.  
Dean’s contemplation of the vastness of his shit is broken when he hears a different set of footsteps. Ones that he can recognize instantly. “Sammy, come to see the show?”


	3. They Work for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out what Sammy has been up to since he left.

“Sammy, come to see the show?”

Sam’s hand fisted into Dean’s hair pulling his head back into a painful tilt so that he could look him in the eyes. Sam’s eyes had gone completely black. Dean swallowed nervously, he had known that this was a side effect of the demon blood but this was the first time he had seen for himself the dark road his brother now traveled. The black retreated from Sam’s eyes. His touch gentled as his fingers played with Dean’s hair. “I like the length. I haven’t seen it this long since I was in elementary.”

Dean froze. His heart beat faster and his breath caught in his throat as he watched Sammy’s face as he slowly ran his fingers through his hair. The rapid change between demon eyed and brother of old had Dean reeling. This was a Sammy he remembered, the Sammy that was the brother he loved and cared for most of his life. He had hoped to reach his brother but had slowly begun to lose hope during his two days of captivity and torture. Maybe, he thought, all was not lost.

“Haven’t had the chance to cut it with the end of the world looming. It’s almost as floppy as yours now.” Sam met his eyes, but there was no smile or hint of the old Sammy. No eye roll or bitch face. Just a cold, dark glare. Dean’s heart dropped, hope slipping from his chest.

“Tell me, Dean,” fingers gently tugged his hair. “What could make you come here to me?” A harder pull of Dean’s hair punctuated the question. “What could you possibly hope to accomplish by this?” Sam’s hand fisted Dean’s hair, pulling him upward to the full extent his chains would allow. “You’ve been tight lipped up until now. Do I really have to break you?”

“I made it thirty years in hell before breaking, Sammy. I can take whatever you can dish out. Damn Sammy, I invented techniques during my stay that would melt your brain. Do you really think I will break?”

“No,” Sam whispered, brushing his body against Dean’s back, his breath hot on the nape of his neck. Hands traced Dean’s shoulders, down his sides, to rest lightly at his hips. “Pain won’t break you.” Sam’s hands traveled slowly back up Dean’s back, this time slowly stroking the welts and cuts that covered him from shoulders to hips. Dean’s eyes watered as Sam’s fingers dipped into the whip marks causing shots of pain to radiate up and down his spine. “I think you and I need to spend more time together. Let you really see what I have accomplished here. This isn’t the dark side, Dean. The angles don’t care if the world is destroyed. Half of them want Lucifer released and the Earth to burn. I’m doing this to save us all.”

“You have demons roaming the countryside. Your eyes turn black and you are DRINKING demon blood. How is this saving anyone? How is working for the demons going to help save the world?”

Sam laughed, head thrown back, grin flashing in the low light of the chamber. “Dean, I don’t work for them. They all work for me.”


	4. There Will Be Sex

"I don't' work for them. They all work for me."

Sam leaned against the wall next to Dean, smiling down at him as if they were just normal brothers. Well, if normal brothers ended up chained to a wall. S and M brothers, what's more normal that that? "Here, let me get you down." Sam unlocked the cuffs encircling Dean's wrists, slowly massaging the skin as each lock came free. Threading his fingers through Dean's hand, he pushed away from the wall and headed out of the room, Dean trailing behind like a lost boy.

Maze like corridors lead toward a flight of stairs. Two days with no food, little water, and demons playing tic tac toe with whips and blood made Dean light headed and he stumbled on the second flight. "You okay there, bro? It's all right, take a second and catch your breath." Sam smiled sweetly at Dean. It was his old smile, the one from before Stanford, before hell, and before the demon blood drinking binge. It was a smile Dean had never thought he would see again. A smile he could not let himself trust.

Dean eyes rose upward, green blazing from under tussled bangs. "Are you playing the good guy now? Are we going to have tea parties now and be besties? Cut the crap, Sammy."

Sam's sweet smile didn't change, if anything it became softer. A gentle tug on Dean's hand had them climbing up the last flight of stairs and into a large room. "You're a little ripe, bro. Time to take a shower." Sam led the way into a large bathroom. The shower with a clear glass door took up most of one wall. "I remember how you loved that shower. Remember, the housing development with all the bugs?"

"I remember, Sammy. But that was a long time ago; back when you were still part of the human race."

A hand gripped the back of Dean's head, forcing his forehead into the shower stall door. It was not hard enough to hurt but violent and sudden enough to serve as a reminder.

Sam's fingers tangled into the Dean's hair. "I've told you not to call me that. I let it go on the stairs but I won't continue to tolerate it" Sam pressed in behind Dean, his other hand tracing roughly down his back, applying pressure to the cuts. "Your sense of self preservation always took back seat to your need to wise crack." Sam's hand traveled around Dean's waist to rest against his stomach as he pulled deans head back to rest against his shoulder. "I don't want to fight with you, Dean. Let's not start anything that will get you killed."

"Okay, Sam" Dean said, his voice dropping into a deeper range. "Whatever you say."

Sam slapped him on his ass. "Into the shower." Sitting down on a low bench, Sam watched Dean with an unreadable expression. Dean raised incredulous eyebrows at Sam. "You can shower alone or you can shower with help. Do you want me to call for the help?" Dean shook his head and quickly stripped off what remained of his clothing.

Multiple shower heads covered Dean in a warm spray. Rivulets streamed down his chest and back. He kept himself turned away from Sam, trying to pretend he was all alone as he scrubbed himself quickly. Doing his best to ignore the pain in his back, he poured a handful of shampoo and gave his hair a rapid wash. Bubbles from the shampoo draped his shoulders and upper body, sliding down his back to the curve of his buttocks.

"I used to love when you gave me bubble baths. Remember, Dean?"

"Yeah, SAM" Dean stressed the Sam, trying the draw attention to the missing endearment. "But, gotta remind you again. That was before you became a black eyed, demon draining, peeping Tom." He spun around in the shower. "Are you looking your fill? Do you need to see more?"

Sam didn't reply, instead he held out a towel and motioned Dean out.

Wrapping the towel tightly around his waist, Dean followed Sam into the bed room. Across the huge four- poster bed laid a variety of bandages and salves. "On you tummy." Sam patted the bed, grinning up at Dean.

"What the hell is going on with you? You let your demon pets have their way with me and now you want to patch me up? We going to play doctor, Samantha? How far down the black eyed brick road have you traveled? You know this isn't right, this isn't who you are. If you just listen to me…"

"So you did come here to save me. To bring me down and stop me. It won't work. I am stronger now, more powerful than you can imagine. I'm not going to let you or the feathered brigade dictate my life." The look Sam sent Dean was one he had never see, cold heartless, removed of all feelings. It was evil.

Instinctively Dean stepped back. Sam rose from the bed and stalked him across the room. "You know," he said conversationally, "it doesn't just work on the demons now" Dean's body was slammed against the far wall, his toes just able to touch the floor. He was edged further up the wall as Sam walked closer. A pressure around his neck quickly cut off most of his air supply causing the room to darken. "You lost the fight as soon as you pulled up the drive. I don't need saving and there is no way you can defeat me." That last line echoed in Dean's mind as he slid down a dark tunnel into emptiness.

Upon waking, the first thing Dean noticed was that the bed had to be the most comfortable one he had ever been on. The second was that his demon eyed baby brother had him all tied up with his evil dark side powers. "Keep this up and you will need a black mask and a bad case of asthma." Sam's response was to pour half a bottle of peroxide on Dean's back. Hissing as spikes of pain radiated from his back, Dean arched trying to move away from Sam's ministrations. "Shit, Sam, you used to have a gentler touch."

A low chuckle rumbled against his lower back, breath ghosting against the thin hairs there. "I used to have lots of gentler things. But, you know, things change." And the rest of the peroxide was splashed across Dean's wounds. "You don't understand how it is now."

Fuck, fuck, fuck was panted into the pillow below him. "So why don't you explain it to me. I AM a captive audience."

"All the guilt, the angst, the need for 'chick flick' moments, that's all gone. It's just power and control now. No more weakness, no more pain. It's such a relief."

"So you have no feelings left? Sam, even this far gone, you gotta know how wrong that sounds. Remember Jess? What about Bobby? And what about me, Sam? I raised you. Are you saying that you have no feelings left for any of us?"

Sam sat quietly by Dean's side, playing with his hair, pushing it into his eyes and then slowly combing it back. His eyes had a far off look, lips pursed as if trying to recover a distant memory.

"It's strange. I can remember my feeling, how I felt for Jess, how I cared for Bobby but they seem so very distant. I know I love you. I can still feel it but it's not the same. It's not a weak feeling, no gentleness. All that's gone. All that's left is this need to posses you. To own you. To make you mine."

"Hell, Sam, I'm not a damn pet."

Another chuckle, this time against the back of Dean's neck. Voice deep, words blowing warm air against the hairs along the nape of his neck, Sam said, "I don't want a pet. I want you."

"Brothers Sammy. We are brothers. The demon blood has screwed with your mind. This isn't you."

"But it is me. Maybe I have always wanted you. Maybe now I am just free." Feeling the hold on his body released, Dean scuttled for the edge of the bed before being flipped violently onto his back, tethered once again by Sam's invisible bonds. Gripping Dean's throat with one hand, Sam leaned over him, squeezing slowly. "Can you tell me what you just did wrong?" He squeezed harder. Back arching, eyes rolling closed, Dean found himself struggling for air again.

As soon as Sam relents, sitting back on his heels with one hand drifting slowly across his chest, Dean gasps "Sam, its Sam". Eyes closed he feels warm lips nibble against his. Sam's tongue licks at his bottom lip. "Sam," He whispers desperate to stop him but as soon as he opens his mouth, Sam takes advantage. He slips his tongue in, tasting, touching, lips sealing them together. Sam's hands move to cup Dean's face, tilting it back to allow better access for his kiss. Dean is lost. Light headed once again. A sharp twist of his gut has Dean throwing all caution to the wind and he kisses Sam back.

Taking control of the kiss, Dean deepens it; using every trick from his long line of one night stands to dominate. Feeling the binding loosen Dean took control and hooked his leg over Sam as he rolled to the top. Pressing his full weight against Sam's body, Dean leans up on his elbows, slowly breaking the kiss. Looking down at his brother, eyes bled demon black, lips swollen and parted, chest heaving, Dean asked. "Is this the only way you can love? Is this the only love you can have for me, your brother? Sam, it isn't love. This is lust, this is sex. Can't you remember how to love me as a brother?"

Sam's body seems to grow larger, he swells. His eyes, already pitch black took on a luster like wet onyx as he surged upward, rolling Dean onto his back. "I can assure you that I can love you. I can love YOU, brother. I can lust you, brother. And sex?" He paused, sitting up to run fingers and eyes down Dean's body. "Oh yes, there will be sex."


	5. My Middle Name Must be Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is evil and takes what he wants. He wants Dean.

"Oh yes, there will be sex."

Trailing hot wet kisses down Dean's chest, Sam worked his way across his body. Sam could feel Dean's skin quivering beneath his lips. He felt his breath hitch as he bit the flesh below his breastbone. A short slide of Sam's tongue diagonal across his abs had him nibbling on Dean's hip. A sharp bite, a warm lick, and a soft kiss before repeating.

Dean was an emotional jumble. His body was no longer pinned to the bed but Dean could not seem to move except the slow arch of his back and the tight grip his hands made with the sheets. He knew he had to stop this. Stop his brother. His brother….Dean's life flashed in his mind, each image, all his important milestones, every happy memory revolving around one person: His Sammy.

In truth there is acceptance. Dean shuttered, the tension rushing out of his body leaving him pliant on the bed. This was his Sammy. The one person he refused to let go. He wouldn't let death separate them, he sure the hell wasn't going to let fucked up black eyes and a little sex tear them apart. If this is what it took….then so be it.

Sam felt the change in Dean. Weaving patterns with his tongue, he moved up Dean's body. Scrapping his teeth along Dean's chin, he looked at his face. Calm green eyes met hazel. "Dean," Sam said as he searched for the anger, the hate, the disappointment he had seen so many times before. And found none. "Dean," he whispered as he found acceptance and love. "Dean," he breathed as if it was a sacred work offered to the wind and kissed him.

Softly, Sam worked Dean's lips open, finding little resistance. He traced the warm contours of his mouth while his hand clutched at Dean's shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles against smooth collarbones. He settled his body onto Dean's, knees pressed to warm hips and his groin rubbing temptingly against Dean's.

Hesitantly, Dean moved his hands up Sam's back, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt and slipping cautiously below to touch skin. Sam solved all his problems by sitting up and pulling of the offending garment in one quick movement. Unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down, he renewed the kiss with vigor.

"Sam", Dean's voice hick upped. "What are we doing?"

"Don't", Sam growled. "Don't let the guilt come between us. Don't let weak emotions stop you from taking what you really want. What you need. I'm not!" With a smoldering look that could melt steel and even Dean's resistance, Sam leaned down and drew Dean's nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it before biting it gently.

His hand slid up Dean's inner thigh to cup his manhood. "Looks like little Dean is taking an interest", he smiled. He rubbed his nose against the warm length and let the tip of his tongue briefly taste its tip.

"Sam, I know you are disproportionately ginormous, but that is not little. It is miles from little."

The warm chuckle that escaped Sam's lips sent shock waves of pleasure up Dean's spine, curling his toes and arching his back. "No," Sam agreed. "Not little. Impressive. Perfect. Not anywhere near little." Each word Sam punctuated with a lick, soft cool air blown across the tip, or a gentle nibble of his lips.

"Sam!" Dean managed to sputter out, dragging the vowel sound. "Can you….can we…damn Sam…ah – oh..." Sam pushed down the swelling emotion that formed in his chest. That was a weak emotion and he needed to be strong. Lust was strong. Possession was strong. But control was powerful. And Sam knew he was in control. Dean, king of the one night stands, was a shivering passion filled tangle of arms and legs that withered beneath him. Yes, Sam thought, control was powerful.

Sam took Dean's length into his mouth, humming, sucking, stroking, and creating a human shaped pool of lust that was once named Dean. Fingers traced Deans opening, leaving a cold trail of lube before pressing into his warm heat. Dean let out a muffled cry and undulating his body against Sam, riding the finger deeper into his body. His movements became more desperate, more demanding with each finger Sam added until he was thrusting his hips with all his strength. "Sammy, now!" A gasping moan, "Now?"

Sam moved himself into position, lifting and nudging Dean until he rested at his warm entrance. "Now?" he grinned down at Dean. A muffled "damnit now!" was all the encouragement he needed. Mattress rocking, headboard banging, Dean's passionate cries adding a staccato counter beat to the sounds of bodies pounding into each other. Time sped up, time slowed down, it was a moment that lasted forever and yet it was over too soon.

Sam, silent in his attention to Dean's body, wrapped his hand around Dean's dick, moving with a long stroke and a twist. As he felt Dean's climax approach, Sam threw his head back, eyes closed; back bow-shaped in ecstasy, and came. Seconds later Dean joined him and they lay, arms and legs entwined as their passions and bodies cooled.

Sam stood up with a pat to Dean's leg and a fluid roll to his feet. He quickly pulled on jeans before turning back to his brother. "I'll have some food sent up. There are things I need to finish. It's coming to ahead now and will all be over soon. " Pulling a shirt over his head, he added. "You've got free range of the house; whatever you want but Dean," Sam paused, eyes narrowing, "Don't do anything stupid." A quick kiss on Dean's lips and Sam was heading out the door.

Dean watched as the door closed behind his brother, who had somehow just became his lover. "I think," he whispered to himself, knowing the things that faced him in the week to come. "I think my middle name must be stupid."


	6. Felt Like Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback from Dean's POV.

 

Dean stood on the small rise looking down as the army, his army gathered. Their numbers grew by the hour as the time for the breaking of the final seal drew nearer. Only one seal more needed to be won. Only two seals were left to battle over. Sighing, Dean rubbed a hand through his hair. The extra length drove him nuts but there was little time to worry about haircuts.

A whisper of wings alerted him. "Hiya, Cas. How goes the preparations?" The angels below moved as if they were one fluid mass. Even in their human vessels, the sheer number made it impossible to hide their unearthliness. Wings, even hidden to the human eye, caused the air to waver like a heat wave in the desert. Dean wondered what a gathering of angels would be called. Sam would know.

"A Choir," Cas answered.

"You know it drives me nuts when you pluck the thoughts from my head."

"Apologies, with this many of us gathered on earth, our grace is ….hard to tether."

"Choir seems to gentle. It should be called something with more power. Something that lets people know how scary you pigeons can be. A tremble of angels or a feather duster of angels." Turning, Dean shot a cocky grin at Cas.

"Dean, you don't need to hide your feelings. I know this is hard."

Smile falling, Dean grasped Cas' should as he walked by. "There has to be another way."

"There is no other choice. Sam has one of the last seals. On the full moon, her death will break the last seal and Sam will have control of hell."

"And how screwed up is this seal. A virgin mother? Didn't you feather heads already pull that trick? Did anyone think that maybe since it was a seal that would open the gates of hell, that maybe you shouldn't go around knocking up virgins?"

"It was not heaven, Dean. Mankind's science is the cause of this."

Creepy Petri dish pregnancy," Dean grumbled. "There has to be a way to get to her before then."

"The mansion is warded and angel proof. All our human agents have been killed before getting closer than a mile. We are out of options. All that is left is to wait at the sacrifice point and try to stop the hoards as they pour out of hell."

"Cas, that plan sucks."

"I find myself in agreement."

Dean let the options roll in his mind. Each decision and choice leading to endless loses hopeless defeats. Unless.

"They would let me in. I could make it past the gates."

Cas froze, his body rigid as he processed Dean's plan. "You are also one of the last seals. The Righteous Man. Your death would open hell as well as hers. You would just be exchanging one sacrifice for another."

"I don't think he could kill me, Cas." Seeing Cas' look of disbelief he added, "I won't let him take me to that point. I'll do what it takes Cas. No matter what. I won't let him use me to open hell."

Looking deep into Dean's eyes, Cas read the truth from his mind, his very soul. "Dean, that is just guilt. Would you trade your life for just the slimmest chance that the old Sam is still in there? He's been drinking demon's blood for the past year. It's a poison that affects the soul. Whatever he was, all that was good in him, it's gone. Sammy is dead."

"An angel that doesn't believe in miracles," Dean whispered. "What is the world coming to?"

"Hell," Cas answered and left Dean standing overlooking the Choir.

Had Cas known Deans hidden thoughts he most likely would have tried to stop him. Or maybe not. The blue eyed angel had been practically living in Dean's head for the past six months there was little chance that Dean could actually hide something from him. Free will was God's gift to man, even Cas had to respect his decision. Or maybe Cas still believed in miracles. All Dean knew was that he once had placed all his faith in Sammy. Maybe that faith could be restored.

Driving down the road toward a mansion guarded by hell hounds and demons, a swell deep within his chest pushed its way upward. An emotion unknown since the day Sammy walked out the hotel door. If felt like hope.

 


	7. Ask Me Again Tomorrow

Being the brother slash consort to the future king of hell had its perks. Fresh homemade apple and cherry pie being the top of Dean's list. Sure he had demon watch dogs following his every move but the food was great. Eating his fourth slice, he smiled around his mouthful at his current watch dog. "Guess you're moving up in the world if they've got you watching my ass."

A flicker of human blue to demon black and back was the only response. Dean chuckled under his breath. He knew they hated watching him, catering to his every whim. Leaning back into the couch he continued with his spoiled, kept, couch potato lover act and bided his time.

Time that was almost up. Standing, he stretched to his full length and walked out of the room. The demon followed behind him as he strolled down the hallway to a closed and guarded door. "I want to see Sam."

Without hesitation the door was opened. Sam sat behind his large CEO of hell desk going over a mound of paperwork. Dean shook his head, even with the hordes of hell ready to do his dirty work; Sam managed to be a total geek. "Spare a moment in your research for me?" Sam's first glance upward was blank. Dean's chest still went cold when he saw this look on Sam's face, there was an emptiness in his eyes. It was worse than the demon black.

Forcing his biggest smile, Dean continued toward the desk. He watched as Sam reprocessed his feelings toward Dean. It was like he had amnesia of the heart and had to relearn each time Dean entered his sight. He needed to relearn to love him, his own brother. But the demon blood darkened it all; love to possession and lust. Dean could work with that.

Dean leaned a hip on the desk next to Sam's ergonomic chair. "So? Can you spare some time?" Sam's hand traced the seam of Dean's jeans from the knee upward. His eyes followed its movement and then continued to Dean's face.

"I am just a little busy. Tomorrow is a big day for me. A big day for us."

"So you will have room for me in your new order? Not just using me for my charm, good looks, and body?" Dean pushed off the desk to straddle Sam's legs, hands bracketing his head, pushing his chair back so that he could look down into his brown eyes. He searched them, hoping to see his real brother in them but he only found the king of hell staring back. The very horny king of hell.

"Are you worried that I will leave you?"

"You have before."

Dean felt Sam's power surge. It forced him backwards and across the room. By the time he steadied himself, Sam was dragging him by the hand and toward their bedroom. "I guess you need reminding. I won't leave you." Sam stopped at the doorway and looked over his shoulder at Dean. It was a cold stare that caused Dean's body to shiver. "And I won't let you go either."

"I'm not going anywhere Sam. It's only you and me." A quick tug had him falling on the bed, his brother covering him.

(**********************************************************)

After an hour of Sam's devout attention, Dean was left alone in the large bed. Paper work called. Closing his eyes, he counted off the seconds it would take Sam to return to his office. At this point he had about fifteen minutes before the guard demon came. He had made a point of being pissy after Sam left in the past. Claimed to need some alone time to savor his post, fucked into the mattress bliss. Sam had smiled at that and granted him the time.

Dean pulled on his jeans and headed for the bathroom. The window was small but serviceable. Climbing up the roof he followed the gutters to the side of the house. With a deep breath and a actual prayer to anyone who would listen (Cas, I hope I don't fuck this up) he slid over the edge and down the runoff pipe.

Landing next to the kitchen, Dean entered the back of the house. He eased himself through the kitchen until he was next to the cellar door. He had just seconds to spare. The alarm ripped through the mansion. He could hear the demons stampede from the other floors toward the front of the house. With the first true smile he had this week, he rushed down the cellar stairs.

Mary, (of course her name was Mary, she was the freaking Petri dish virgin mother) was in a locked room at the end of the hall. There were no guards. Huh, Sammy is starting to slip, Dean thought. A simple lock was all that stood between Dean and the prisoner which he quickly jimmied.

Mary's face was tear- stained, her belly swollen with child. "I'm Dean Winchester; I'm here to rescue you." Damn, he wanted a light saber after this. Grabbing Mary's arm, he bolted for the kitchen door and out into the yard. He could still hear the hunt for him going on. A desperate yell from the roof let him know that he had been spotted.

"Look," Dean said. "You need to keep running this way. There are people all around the perimeter trying to get to you. You will be safe once you get to the other side of the fence." Dean pointed to the large fence that could be seen in the distance. Mary looked terrified but nodded bravely. "I'll head them off."

Turning back, Dean ran diagonally across his path, trying to draw as much attention to his "escape" as possible. Two demons cut him off but Dean was able to evade their grasp. He was not so lucky with the next pair. A solid punch to his jaw had him dropping like a rock.

His vision swam back into focus as he was pushed to the floor in front of an enraged Sammy. His eyes had gone completely black and the bodies of Dean's guards were strewn across the room. He didn't have much pity for the demons but death by having your entrails ripped out your navel was not a good way to go.

"What did I tell you, Dean?"

"It's Sam not Sammy, cause Sammy is a chubby twelve year old boy?"

The very air shimmered just before a blast of power had Dean flying across the room until he slammed into the desk.

"I told you not to do anything stupid. I would classify running away from me as extremely stupid. Were you a spy Dean? Here to find out my plans? Even had you escaped, it would not have helped." Sam ran a hand over Dean's face, stopping to gently cup his chin. "I told you, I am not letting you go."

Dean smirked. So far all attention had been solely on his escape. No one had noticed their missing virgin yet. Eyes darting to the clock, he hoped she had made it to the fence line at this point. Time to finish this.

"You know Sammy; you were always the weaker of the two of us. So needy, so helpless. That's why yellow eyes chose you; your blood was weak, easy to corrupt. Dad was right. I should have killed you."

Dean's feet left the floor, body twisting in the air only to return, back crashing, to the top of the desk. Invisible forces lifted him again and again, ramming him each time onto the top of the desk. He felt ribs crack and his wrist was slashed by the letter opener on the second drop.

His body was spun completely around to face Sam. Reaching across the desk, Sammy gripped Dean's throat and started to squeeze. "Didn't I give you what you needed? Why did you have to mess this up Dean? I would have taken care of you."

"Not gonna be a demon king's whore Sammy," Dean managed to gasp past Sam's grip. Dean watched as the decision flashed across Sam's face. His hand tightened on Dean's neck. This is it, Dean thought.

"Sir," interrupted a demon. Shit! Dean's mind screamed. "There has been an incident."

"I'm dealing with an incident now," growled Sam.

"Sir, the seal. The seal is gone."

From his vantage point of being pinned below Sam, Dean was able to watch as the blood drained out of his face leaving him pale and shaking. The shaking intensified as the fury grew within him. Color returned, shading Sam's face a deep red. "You always did have some anger management issues," Dean wisecracked.

Sam's black eyes looked over his prone form and his face cleared. "Nice try Dean. But I still have one seal left and it is the only one I need." Motioning to the demons, Sam released Dean. "Make him understand the error of his ways. I need him alive so be gentle." The word gentle was said with a heartless smile. "Bring him back when you're done. We need to finish our conversation, Dean."

(*********************************************************)

Sam watched the slow rise and fall of Dean's chest. The demon's had returned with his unconscious body, draping him across the desk. One arm, a slow drip of blood coming off his fingers and pooling on the floor, rested next to Sam's feet which were propped up on the desk. Sam tapped Dean's wrist with his crossed legs as he read over the latest report from the front.

A change in Dean's breathing alerted Sam to his waking state. "Not one of your smarter plans. What did you hope to accomplish?" Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean softly on his bleeding lips.

Dean turned his head, green eyes locked on his brother. "Ask me again tomorrow."

 


	8. And Nothing Else Matters

Dean stood at Sam's left, watching the battle below them. The angels and demons ebbed like the tide, a give and take that could be described as graceful from Dean's distance if it wasn't for the bodies left behind. His eyes searched for a tan trench coat, hoping never to find its fluttering form among the dead.

"You chose the wrong side, Dean."

"I'm standing by you, aren't I?"

Sam's hand squeezed Dean's shoulder like a vice. "By me, not with me. There's a big difference."

The moon rose higher in the sky, taking on a reddish hue. Clouds gathered in the distance and thunder rumbled through the night. Smells of ozone and blood filled the air but the whole battle was strangely silent. No battle cries or pleading for mercy. Just the sounds of angel blades against the demons swords. They made a shimmering sound like metal wires being plucked. A twang that cut quietly through the air.

Dean turned to watch Sam. His eyes had not returned to his human brown since the rescue of the sacrifice. Sam's face was calm, no brooding brows or strained lips. It was mannequin blank as he watched the battle below.

As if feeling Dean's stare, Sam turned to meet his gaze. "It's almost time." Reaching out he cupped Dean's face, running his thumb across his lips. Dean found himself leaning into the touch. "This is not how I wanted this to end."

"You can change it, Sam. We can walk away right now. Just you and me." Sam turned back to the battle, his hand sliding from Dean's face, down his shoulder, to wrap around his waist. "Can you do it? Can you look into my face while you slit my throat?" The hand at his waist tightened before releasing him completely.

"Bring him," Sam tossed over his shoulder as he started to walk down the slope. Before him the demons parted, clearing a path for their king. The earth was slick with blood causing Dean to slip slightly as he made his way down.

From their right they could hear the angles make a last ditch effort to force the horde from their path. But it was too late. Dean could feel it when they reached the sacrifice point. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift, as if trying to push them away. The air quivered around them, pulsating, churning, causing Dean's breath to catch in his throat, struggling to draw oxygen into his lungs.

Sam drew a wickedly serrated blade, its edge seeming to absorb the light around it. The demons pushed Dean to his knees before Sam, their voices rising in praise to the new king of hell. "The time is nigh, my lord"

"Nigh? Who the hell says that? Damn, Sammy, you're even turning the demon spawn into nerds."

"Only you could joke at a time like this Dean."

Sam reached out, carding his fingers gently through Dean's hair, gripping enough to pull his head back, exposing his brother's throat. Dean didn't struggle. His eyes never left Sammy's. "You haven't asked me. Remember? You were supposed to ask me again tomorrow. It's tomorrow, Sammy."

Sammy's brows furrowed creating a classic bitch face. Dean had to smile; he hadn't seen that face for over a year. Amazing how seeing Sammy look constipated made being sacrificed to begin the rule of hell on earth a good day for Dean. His life had always been so very screwed up.

Sammy's bitch face deepened as he looked into Dean's smiling face. His mind searched memories. What was he supposed to ask? A small part of his mind screamed at him that it was important, not because it was information he wanted or needed but because it made Dean smile.

"So, what did you hope to accomplish?" Sam asked.

"I couldn't let you kill her."

"So you decided to take her place? To die in her stead? The seal will still be broken, you have changed nothing."

"Sammy, I could never stand by while you became king of hell. I could not watch you become this evil thing. To travel this path."

Sam's face was incredulous. "So this is basically suicide? I have to say, I'm a little disappointed in you."

Dean shook his head. "Not suicide, Sammy. Just a choice of where I would spend my last moments. I could either die fighting to stop you or die by your side. I could never be on your side with you becoming hell's bitch in all but this was the next best thing."

"Having me kill you is your next best thing?"

Dean laughed, his voice taking on a broken hitch, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "I promised you when I was four that I would protect you. I went to hell for you. You have been the focus of my life. Don't you see Sammy? Heaven or hell, win or lose, life or death, it doesn't matter. It's only you. It's always been you. Nothing else matters."

Sam paused, eyes searching Dean's. Then he reached his hand out, palm down as if offering a benediction. Dean could feel his power gathering, after all the times it had been used against him in the past few days he was beginning to recognize its presence. Dean forced his eyes to stay open; his last sight would be his brother.

A white blast shot from Sam. It started at his palm but traveled through his body and outward, creating an arching glow of light that spiraled its way through the legions of demons. As the light hit them, each demon would throw its head back in a silent scream, eyes glowing red briefly, ending in a sulfur scented cloud of black ash. "Add some Nazis and melting faces and we would have a scene straight out of Raider of the Lost Ark."

Sam had no response to Dean's banter. His body was rigid, blood dripped from his nose and the blackness slowly washed away from his eyes. The blackness washed away, leaving his eyes a clean, human brown. A human brown without the cold stare, eyes filled with emotions: guilt, regret, horror, and, as he met Dean's gaze, love. Sam was back.

Blinding light still emanating from Sam, he sank to his knees next to Dean. His outstretched hand desperately clutching at his big brother as he used the last of his strength. The Choir of angels surged forward, slaying the demons still on their feet, allowing none to escape or survive.

A rustle of wings and a flash of tan heralded Cas' arrival. His blue eyes glowed. His wings visible against the fading white light. A shadow of sorrow passed over his features as he looked at Dean and then he reached out with two fingers toward Sam's forehead.

"No," screamed Dean as he stumbled to his feet and throwing himself between the angel and his brother. "No," quietly. "No," with determination. "The only way that will happen, Cas is if you kill me first."

"Let him Dean. It's what I deserve."

"Then he takes us both Sammy. I'm not letting you go either." Sam reached out and intertwined his fingers with Dean's. Together, as it should always be.

Cas looked upward, head cocked as he listened to unheard voices. Then he smiled. "Faith Dean. You must spare some for me." Remembering their conversation about faith and miracles, Dean let Cas brush his fingers across Sam's forehead. Sam looked confused at first but his features softened and a smile touched his lips just before he collapsed at Dean's feet.

A frantic "Sam" and Dean was gathering his brother to his chest. Betrayal etched across his face, he looked up at the trench coat wearing, brother slaying, as soon as he could find a blade and some holy oil, dead angel.

"Dean, he is fine. Look." Dean felt for a pulse and found a strong heart beat under his finger tips. Sam's chest rose and fell evenly. "I just removed the rest of the demon blood. He is clean now. Free from all taint. Repentance must be asked for, Dean. In actions or words."

"Is it over, Cas?"

Cas looked over the bloody field. Looking at his dead brethren, both those that fought with him and those that had fallen from grace a millennium before. "Hell has been defeated Dean. But I do not know what that will mean. But for now, yes, it is over."

Dean pulled his brother closer. Peace filling him for the first time since….he had to stop and think. He had not felt this way since Sammy left for Stanford all those years ago.

(****************************************************************)

The old pickup pulled into the motel parking lot. The Impala had not yet been recovered but Cas promised it would be returned within the week. Drawing on his new found faith in angels, Dean kept his panic for his baby at bay. She was out there, lost, most likely gathering dust in some lot, her shine loosing its luster. "Are we getting a room or sleeping in the truck." Sammy interrupted his mental dialogue.

Keys and backpack in hand, Dean led the way into the rundown motel room. Places like this, sadly, felt like home to Dean. Maybe it was time to find a real home. Dean's lips twitched. Maybe he could become a real boy.

Turning he found Sam frozen in the doorway. Guilt was coming off him so hard it practically made visible waves. Shit, Dean thought, we are going to have a chick flick moment. He knew it was coming but had hoped to avoid it for a couple of days. After the battle, he had promised himself that he would never again deny the emotional outlets that Sammy seemed to need in order to function. He would do anything for Sammy but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Dean," voice weak and broken. "After all I've done. I…" Sam looked franticly at Dean, eyes trying to convey the depth of his horror, the guilt of his actions.

"Sam, demon's blood is a poison," Cas said. "It affects the soul. The fact that you managed to overcome it at the last moment really says something about the person you really are."

"How can you?" Sam asked.

"How can I what?"

"Forgive me? I beat you, let them torture you. I forced myself…oh god Dean. I raped you. I forced all my sick perversions on you. I never wanted you to know. I never meant for you…" Sammy lost his battle with his emotions, dropping to his knees he sobbed.

Dean watched his brother crumble at his feet. He was shocked at the sudden revelation of the extent of his little brother's feelings. "You never wanted me to know what, Sammy? You're saying that you felt that way before the demon blood? You wanted me before you went all dark side?"

With each word Sammy pulled deeper into himself, his long body tightening to a small ball. Despair, disgust, self hatred flowed out of Sammy's very pores. Dean stood still, his thoughts raging through his mind as he remembered his time in Sammy's bed.

"Damn, Sammy you need to listen to me. If I am going to chick flick vomit all this emotional stuff you need to listen, cause I will never say it again. This is it! Are you listening?"

Sam's tear streaked face looked up at Dean. Taking a deep breath, Dean continued with his 'moment'. Oh, shoot me now, he thought.

"All my life I have only wanted a few things. I want a family, a place where I belong. I had that with you. We could have that again, Sammy. I want to be needed and wanted. Could you give me that?"

Sammy's eyes were huge. This was an open Dean, one he had never seen. "Yes, Dean. I need you. I have always wanted you."

Dean nodded and continued. "So, all I have ever wanted, my whole life is a family who wants me as much as I want them." He walked over and knelt by Sammy. "It's you Sammy. You are all I have ever wanted." Sam pushed his way into Dean's arm, hugging him tightly.

Chuckling, Dean hugged him back. "Now the sex. I'm not saying it wasn't mind blowing. It was just unexpected."

"You still want that? With me? Us?"

"There's that college educated vocabulary at work." He leaned down and captured Sam's mouth with his own, deepening the kiss yet keeping it gentle and soft. Dean tugged Sam to his feet and pulled him toward the bed. "It's always been us. I guess now we just have added benefits."

Sam laughed knocking his teeth against Deans. "Okay, okay, brothers with benefits" and he pushed Dean to the bed. Pulling his shirt off, Sam straddled Dean's hips and quickly worked on the smaller man's clothes. Shirts discarded, pants peeled from long legs, Sammy took a second to look at Dean. Somehow he had earned a second chance at happiness. He would not screw this one up.

Later, legs tangled with Dean's and his head resting on his brother's shoulder, Sam started to laugh. "Care to share," Dean rumbled, sleep deepening his voice.

"I'm just remembering what you said. On the field." Sammy lifted his head, looking at his sex mussed brother. "Dude, you quoted Metallica. It could have been the end of the world and you quote a metal band."

"What can I say Sammy, Metallica is the answer to everything." Dean smiled, not his cocky grin or the wide smile that made girls melt, but his true smile, the one that was for Sammy alone. Sam tucked back against his brother's chest and let sleep claim him.

Dean stayed awake, thinking. He had not quoted Metallica, at least not intentionally. But truth was truth, whether it came from a song or from his very soul. Because in all the world, heaven or hell, it was Sammy and nothing else matters.


End file.
